More Than Partners
by Max Mahr
Summary: A Johnlock-centric 100 Theme Challenge that looks at their relationship from their first meeting to post-Reichenbach.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Introduction

**A/N:**_ This is an ongoing 100 Theme Challenge, where every day for the next 100 days I will try to write and post some lovely drabbles. The entire thing starts at a Study in Pink, and will continue chronologically to post-Reichenbach. Each chapter is Johnlock-centric and from mostly their perspectives. Heavily inspired by__Riddelly__'s _Instances_. This chapter takes place at the beginning, when John and Sherlock first meet._

**Disclaimer:**_ Don't own Sherlock; I'm simply a fan._

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

Suddenly, John was having second thoughts about giving his phone to this man.

"Sorry, What?"

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" He repeated, glancing up from the phone to look at John. He seemed to examine John for a second, before turning his attention back to John's phone.

John was stunned, completely and absolutely stunned. This stranger had figured out that he was a soldier and even managed to narrow it down to two possible countries John had been stationed at in a matter of seconds. He had been in the lab for less than a minute, and without saying anything vital, this complete stranger appeared to have figured him out. When John first entered the lab, he paid little attention to the man hunched over the very serious looking experiment, instead looking around the unfamiliar room at the strange chemicals and supplies he vaguely remembered from his high school chemistry class. If you had asked him to characterize this man based on the few seconds that they had been in the same room, the best John could say was that he appeared mysterious but maintained a formal and superior air about him, tinged with danger. There was absolutely no way John could have told you part of his life story just by looking at him.

Yet that's exactly what this stranger had done to him, with no introduction needed.

Snapping back to the present, he shot a confused glance at Mike wondering if he had said anything about him to the stranger, but a shake of the head indicated that he had done no such thing. The door behind him opened as he looked back over at the suited man, both amazed and curious as to how he figured that out.

It was in that moment that John decided he wanted to become part of this man's life. He wanted to see or even understand the inner workings of his mind, and wanted to stay by his side no matter the consequences. The hole created by his discharge was caused by being forced to leave behind that spontaneous danger and excitement. However, something deep inside told John that he would never be far from sudden peril or thrill if he stayed and ended up sharing a flat with this strange, dark-haired man.

"Afghanistan."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Crowd

**A/N: **_This time from Sherlock's perspective, this chapter takes place at the end of A Study in Pink._

**Disclaimer:** _Don't own anything even Sherlock-related._

**Crowd**

_These blankets serve absolutely no purpose other than to distinguish the victim from the crowd, _Sherlock thought as he sat in the back of the ambulance, the orange blanket draped over his shoulders doing nothing other than making him look ridiculous. _How does a large blanket help someone cope with shock even? _He wondered as Lestrade walked over to him, a smug grin on his face.

After a pointless debate concerning the usefulness of the orange shock blanket, Sherlock changed the topic from the shock blanket to the crime at hand.

"We've got nothing to go on," Lestrade said with a sigh, glancing back over at the crime scene.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Sherlock responded. It really was surprising how much vital information Lestrade and his team could simply miss or ignore, small details that explicitly told them who their killer was.

"The bullet they just dug out of the wall is from a handgun. A kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon, that's a crack shot you're looking for. But not just a marksman, a fighter," he said, standing up and examining the scene from where he stood. "His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatized to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so a strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service and nerves of steel "

Sherlock stopped mid-sentence as his gaze drifted over to where John was standing a short distance behind the crime scene tape. A wave of realization came crashing over him as he stood, rooted to the spot with his eyes on John. He glanced down at John's pocket, and sure enough, he could just barely make out the outline of a handgun in John's jacket pocket. _It was John, _Sherlock thought as he studied John's expression. It was obvious he was trying to keep a straight face, but concern and relief showed through his appearance regardless. He locked eyes with John for a moment before John nervously looked away, and an unfamiliar feeling began to bloom in his stomach. A warm feeling like a mix of gratitude and nervousness. It wasn't unpleasant, simply curious and new.

"Actually, do you know what? Ignore me. Ignore all of that. It's just the… the shock talking," Sherlock said quickly before making his way over to John. As he got closer and closer to John, this strange feeling grew and his heart rate sped up slightly. _Love? _Sherlock thought as he stepped under the police tape, taking the ugly orange blanket off of his shoulders and tossing it into the front seat of the police car. He could feel a slight smile spread across his lips as he noticed John stumbling over his words.

_I'll have to look into this a little more, _Sherlock thought as he listened to John.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Twenty

**A/N: **_With school having started back up and my schedule is growing busier and busier, I'm going to continue writing these little blurbs, but I'll only upload them once I've written all 100, or close to all 100. That way, all I have to do is remember to upload them, and won't procrastinate on writing. At the time, this theme seemed to match. Anyways, this chapter takes place after A Study in Pink but before The Blind Baker._

**Disclaimer: **_Don't own anything even Sherlock-related._

* * *

John glanced down at his watch as he ran back to the flat, phone gripped tightly in his hand. He had headed to Tesco's after discovering that the only things left to eat was an assortment of moldy food in old take-away boxes (which Sherlock was apparently using in an experiment) and a collection of unrecognizable vegetables stored in jars. Hungry, John immediately set out to the store, hoping to grab just enough food to last until he had more time to restock. Not long after he arrived at Tesco's, John heard his phone go off in his jacket pocket. To his surprise, it was Sherlock.

_Home. Now. SH_

Having only been sharing a flat with Sherlock for a little more than a week, John still wasn't completely used to Sherlock's ever changing moods and whims. It seemed that the man had to constantly be entertained, whether that be with a new case or a strange experiment or composing something on the violin, and always moving from one thing to the next. It was one of Sherlock's many quirks that John both admired and hated, only hating it because he wasn't able to sleep whenever Sherlock decided that three in the morning was a perfect time to play the violin. So far, since the end of the case he dubbed "A Study in Pink", Sherlock was constantly going back and forth between two experiments; one involving the old take-away and the other involving several human fingers he accidentally found while rummaging through the fridge.

When he saw the text, John grew slightly concerned, even though he knew that Sherlock could probably handle whatever trouble he got into. He was unable to tell if Sherlock needed his help with something important or if it could wait until John was done shopping. Quickly, John opened his phone and responded.

_Why? JW_

He quickly finished shopping, unable to shake the feeling that he should have left as soon as he got Sherlock's text. After he finished checking out and was headed out of the store, John's phone went off again.

_Hurry. SH_

John quickly dropped the bags of groceries in his hands and took off, running back to the flat. He glanced down at his watch. _I've only been gone twenty minutes, and that idiot's managed to get himself into trouble, _he thought as he rounded the corner to Baker Street. He hurried over to their flat and threw the door open, trying to figure out what happened. No signs of forced entry (_but someone could have easily picked the lock, _John thought), no smoke pouring out of the door, no mysterious blood spatters. Nothing. Slowing down as he reached the top step, John cautiously opened the door and risked a glance into the flat.

As John took a few confused steps into the flat, Sherlock got up from lying on the sofa and quickly walked over to John.

John shot Sherlock a puzzled look and opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly cut off by Sherlock.

"I need to borrow your phone," He said casually, sticking out his hand.

Dumbfounded, John stared at Sherlock and shoved the phone into his hand before leaving the flat in a huff. He needed to clear his mind, get away from Sherlock, and eat something.

Meanwhile, back at the flat, Sherlock stood in the exact same position. Staring at the door with a puzzled look, Sherlock noticed a slight tingling in his fingers from where John's hand had brushed against his.

"Just as I thought," Sherlock mumbled, flexing his fingers.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Table

**A/N: **_So, apparently I lied about not updating again for a while. Put up with random updates, perhaps with random weeks without uploads. Thank you to everyone for the reviews and follows. You guys are awesome, but you probably already knew that._

**Disclaimer: **_Don't own anything even Sherlock-related._

* * *

_This is a bit not good, _Sherlock thought as he lowered his arms from over his head. The experiment was going exactly as planned, but what Sherlock didn't realized was just how quickly the experiment would get out of hand. He was studying how the colour of smoke changed when increasing amounts of pure sodium was added to water, when a little too much sodium was mixed with the water, causing a large and spontaneous explosion. In an attempt to protect himself, Sherlock had flung his arms over his head and crouched down at the last second. As the cloud of smoke dispersed, Sherlock stood up slowly, coughing lightly. There was a strange warmth spreading down his back and part of his left arm, followed by a sharp stinging sensation. Looking over at his arm, Sherlock noticed a dark patch bloom on the sleeve of his shirt. _Very not good, _Sherlock decided as he examined the kitchen table, the corner where he was experimenting turned into shrapnel during the explosion.

Sherlock knew he should probably do something about the growing pain in his arm and back, but he would rather not go to a hospital, and Mycroft wouldn't allow him into private facilities for such a trivial injury. Pacing about the kitchen, being careful not to step on any broken glass, Sherlock remembered that John was an army doctor. He quickly pulled out a phone and sent John a text.

_Need you back at flat. Now. Important. SH_

John was meeting up with Mike for lunch. Mike insisted that John tell him all about life with Sherlock after two weeks, and asked if John wanted to move out yet. Chuckling, John shook his head.

"It's bearable," He said, not knowing how else to describe it. At that moment, John's phone went off in his pocket. John glanced down at the screen and saw it was a text from Sherlock.

_What is it now? I'm busy. JW_

John rolled his eyes and was about to put his phone back in his pocket when it went off again.

_Experiment got out of hand. Injured. Hurry. SH_

A look of concern flashed across John's face as he re-read Sherlock's last text. There was absolutely no way that Sherlock Holmes would let an experiment get out of hand. But Sherlock Holmes would also never lie about an experiment getting out of hand. He muttered a quick apology to Mike, promising he would make it up to him, and dashed off to catch a cab back to Baker Street.

Sherlock was sitting in a chair in the kitchen, not bothering to clean up any of the mess made by the explosion, when he heard the door to the flat swing open. He simply looked over at John, who appeared to be overwhelmed by the sight of Sherlock covered in dozens of small cuts and the kitchen table missing a large chunk of wood.

"I told you it was important," Sherlock said accusingly as John rushed over to his side.

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**A/N: **_Reviews are always welcome. And thank you, everyone._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Mess

**A/N: **_Seeing as this is more popular than I thought it would be, I might actually try to update it every day. Another somewhat filler chapter that focuses on the very beginning of Sherlock's and John's relationship._

**Disclaimer: **_Don't own anything even Sherlock-related_

* * *

A loud crashing sound coming from the living room suddenly woke John up. Instinctively, he fell to the ground and braced for an explosion, his army training kicking in. Lying flat on his stomach, he held his breath and waited quietly for the stinging shrapnel to hit, but it never came. John looked up wearily, remembering that he was no longer in Afghanistan, but back in London. Heart racing from a rush of adrenaline, he quickly pushed himself up off the floor and looked around, flexing his shoulder a little as a dull throbbing slowly returned, as it did whenever he had a flashback to the war. John took a shaky breath, calming himself down before throwing a robe on to go downstairs and investigate the cause of the noise.

For the most part, John was used to living with Sherlock by now. There were certainly some sleepless nights when Sherlock was working on a case and played his violin until the early hours of the morning, and other times when the two were chasing criminals through the dark back streets of London. The thrill of the chase and the slight rush John got whenever working on a case with Sherlock generally outweighed the lack of sleep, but not this morning. For the past three days John had been helping Sherlock investigate a series of disappearances, each night ending with a long and exhausting chase through the shipyard. Being the first night he was able to get more than two hours of sleep, John was more than a little upset at the rude awakening.

"Sherlock, what the bloody hell was that noise?" John called as he came down the stairs. As he reached the final step, John was greeted by the sight of a completely trashed living room. Large piles of books threatened to topple over at any moment (John suspected that the loud noise from earlier was one of these stacks), multiple dirty mugs and dishes sat on the table, and old reports completely covered the floor, with only a narrow pathway to the kitchen cleared. On top of that, multiple bloody articles of clothing which John had never seen before in his life were currently occupying the couch and his favourite chair. Sherlock, he noticed, was nowhere to be found.

Sighing, John picked up the dirty dishes and carefully made his way over to the kitchen, being careful not to knock anything over. Since he had moved in, the only time that John saw the flat completely clean was during Lestrade's fake drug bust. As he put the dishes down in the already full sink, John felt his phone vibrate. Quickly pulling his phone out, John glanced down at the screen.

_Alphabetical by last name. SH_

John frowned, knowing now that Sherlock expected him to clean the flat by himself, and put his phone back in the pocket of his robe. He checked the kettle for any experiments and turned it on, then quickly ran back upstairs and changed out of the clothes he slept in and into something better suited for cleaning. When John re-entered the kitchen, he poured himself a mug of tea and cautiously made his way over to the first pile of books, which was almost as tall as he was. He took a sip of tea and put the mug down, rolling up the sleeves of the jumper as he got to work organizing the complete mess Sherlock had left.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Acceptance

**A/N:** _Sorry about the somewhat late update. I'm getting sick. It took me a lot longer to write this chapter than I expected, but I'm feeling confident about how it's turned out. Be prepared for some soul-searching John._

**Disclaimer: **_Don't own anything even Sherlock-related_

When Harry told John that she was gay, John had absolutely no trouble accepting that she was. His opinion of her didn't change, and he still treated her exactly the same. The year before Harry went to University, she told John that she fancied her closest friend and didn't know how to tell her, or how to tell the rest of their family.

For a while, the two sat in Harry's room, John acting as Harry's therapist as she talked about how she really her friend but didn't know if she liked her back. The next day, Harry confessed, and immediately after the pair started dating. Two weeks later, she told their mum that she was dating another girl. And though John's mum initially struggled to understand, she eventually came to accept Harry for who she was, and much later on welcomed Clara with open arms.

At the time, John didn't understand why Harry was so worried about her friend's reaction to her confession. Sure, John had dated a few people, but even back then his relationships never lasted very long, the longest one lasting a little more than a month. The few relationships he had been in usually began as him getting set up with one of his sister's friends. And being straight, he never viewed any of his mates as more than just that. So when a distraught Harry approached him one day, on the brink of tears, John tried to help Harry as much as possible, even though he really didn't understand why she needed any help in the first place.

However, the closer John got to Sherlock, the more he understood why Harry was worried about being accepted all those years ago.

Pouring himself a cup of tea, John quietly walked into the other room and sat down in a chair, facing the couch. The couch was currently occupied by a sleeping Sherlock, who had devoted every minute of the past 96 hours to catching a kidnapper. Not once during the case did Sherlock sleep, and as soon as he arrived back at the flat, he stumbled over to the couch and fell asleep without saying a single word to John.

John took a sip of tea, watching the steady rise and fall of Sherlock's chest as he slept. Since meeting Sherlock, it became clear that John wasn't as straight as he used to be. There was something about the living contradiction that is Sherlock Holmes that made John want to spend the rest of his life with him. Something that kept John from leaving the chaos of 221B and the inevitable danger that followed in Sherlock's wake. It was this 'something' that made John drop whatever he was doing whenever Sherlock called him to a crime scene or back to the flat.

That something, John figured, was love.

And he had a hard time accepting that.

Because John had been straight his entire life. Because what if Sherlock didn't love him back. What would happen if John confessed to Sherlock only to be rejected? He frowned, heart sinking at the thought of Sherlock viewing their relationship as being nothing more than platonic. Would he kick John out of the flat? Would John never be able to see Sherlock again?

John's attention snapped back to Sherlock when he thought he heard the detective say his name, his previous train of thought all but derailed. He looked over at the couch and saw Sherlock still fast asleep.

Finishing his tea, John walked back over to the kitchen and put the cup in the sink before grabbing the newspaper and walking back over to the living room. He smiled to himself as the detective rolled over in his sleep. No matter what happened, John had to accept the fact that he fancied Sherlock. And whether or not Sherlock fancied him as well, John realized he would go to great lengths just to stay by Sherlock's side, even if it meant lying to him.


End file.
